Oh, Gud. I'm really sorry things don't seem to be getting better. But I love hearing about all the stuff you do with the kids.

{{{Gud}}}

Monday is also the day to check in and hear what a wonderful, loving, very good person you are.

Gronklies.

Weekend=Teh Good. Shopping with Perkins, most successful. Achieved much flannel sheetage, stripey socks and backseamed stockings, tasty Thai noodles, and some of the finest coffee and chai products on the planet (note to ita: Coffee Bean & Tea Leaf sells big ol' tubs of Dutch process unsweetened chocolate hot-drink-mix powder), and much good conversation.

Dressing up and going out, also successful, until it was past 11 and Jill Tracy had just finished her set a bit ago and Voltaire was nowhere in sight and Hec and I were both weaving with semi-sick-person weariness, so we staggered home and collapsed. Pre-collapse, though, Jill Tracy was dark and lovely and hypnotic-voiced, and we met a charmingly hatted and veiled polka-dancing goth girl named Tara and her waltzing husband Chris, and a Dark Garden staffer named Janelle, and I might get to do some window display work for DG at Dickens Fair in December. So, yay.

But still. Wheezy and weary, and Emmett's mom just called to report that he still has a barking cough and needs to be picked up early on account of considerable not-wellness. Hec just rambled out the door for a half-day of work before retrieving poor scritchy-throated Emmett, and now I have to lumber into the shower myself. Monday=Teh Feh.

I think I'd always be nice to someone who made cinnamon rolls. I do sometimes wish I could shake that woman.

The park is beautiful, Gud, and Leif and Emaryn are cute as always.

After McDonalds proved a bust, we went to the plaza and visited the bookstore there (with Escalators, a big hit for the kids).

When I was about Leif's age, I found the switch and turned off an escalator, something my mother reminds me of to this day.

Holy Cow, Gud. I think you just might win the saintly husband sweepstakes, and I thought Greg was a contender.

Gud, Perkins and I were just talking about you yesterday over our coffee products, about what a great, committed, totally engaged and loving father you are, and how very much we both wish we could wave a magic wand that gave you the real partnership of a marriage that you deserve for all your goodness. I'm so sorry we haven't anything to offer you but good thoughts, which seem so small and lame compared to the constant rumbling unhappiness you're surrounded by.

Gud, dude, I'm sorry... Want me to beat her up? Or send her tons of clippings about truly awful hubs and fathers...which is probably more likely, actually. Much health-ma to my favorite evil mastermind and his family.

My wife has some legit complaints and some legit problems as well. I think we may have just grown apart and that there isn't going to be a solution. I dunno.

Thanks for the well wishes though.

OK...I'll keep the crowbar in the car. You're no fun, though.

{{{Gud}}}

vw, I'd be happy to do the survey.

Annabel still isn't sleeping like she should, but today she held off on waking up until around 6:00 a.m. (which I know isn't all that early in kid terms, but she's still not falling asleep till around 11:00, despite us putting her down by 9:00), which is a lot easier on the sanity than 2:00 or 4:00 or 5:00, or all three in the same night.